StarCraft: One Last Light
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Amon's darkness spread across the galaxy. All that was left was for the protoss to find solace in what light remained.


**One Last Light**

"I knew I would find you here."

"And where else would I be? The Spear is a large vessel after all."

"Very large. And yet here you remain."

The language was formal. And that was all it was, Artanis reflected. Language. Simple words delivered in a simple manner, a type of exchange reserved for lesser species. Cut off from the Khala, he could only see Karax, and hear his words. He could not sense his emotions. He could not feel connected through the Khala's light. He could see the phasesmith's eyes, and make out a degree of emotion in his comrade's words, but that was all. It was degrading. Humiliating. It was like being an animal.

And the silence remained as the two protoss stood in the shadow of the ship's solar core. An artificial sun, powering the largest vessel the protoss had ever constructed. And the most powerful. And now, nothing more than a refugee ship, carrying the scraps of protoss civilization like leaves in a stream. Fleeing from Shakuras as readily as they had fled from Aiur. Afraid, shadows in the dark, as a greater darkness pursued them all.

"I have applied the solarite obtained from Antrim," Karax said. Artanis glanced at him – was this necessary information, or was his friend just trying to break the silence that existed between them. The same silence that all Khalai were now forced to endure. "We have an increase in power output of seven percent. This should correlate to an additional three seconds of constant output from the ship's thermal lances. Taking into consideration the-"

"No," Artanis said. He walked across the core room, his blue eyes taking interest in a golden, featureless war. "Not now."

"But Hierarch, I-"

"Don't!" he snapped, his eyes flaring. Sparks filled the air around him momentarily., as psionic energy coursed through his body. "Don't…don't call me that. Not here. Not now."

"…I understand."

He didn't. In the deepest mind-melds of the Khala, one couldn't lie. Maybe the protoss were so out of practice with deception, or maybe it just applied to Karax. But looking at his subordinate, Artanis suspected both. Deception. The Khalai had never needed it. They hadn't needed deception to survive. They'd been at the mercy of Kerrigan's deception in the Brood War. And now…

…and now he remembered Rohana. The one protoss on this ship still connected to the Khala, such were the worth of her memories. He was not blind to the possibility that she might be deceiving them all.

 _And would I know it if she did?_

He couldn't answer. Fenix, in his blunt honesty, would have known. Tassadar, in his infinite wisdom, would have known. Zeratul, in his ages of experience, would have known. But he, the ruler of a scattered people, didn't. Nor had he any idea how to salvage the situation.

"Why are you here, Karax?"

He had to speak. He couldn't stand it any longer. This silence – the ocean was gone, and all that was left was desert.

"What do you mean? It is my station."

"Even now, I do not dictate that every Firstborn spend every hour at their station." Artanis turned around, and met Karax's gaze. He looked down at him from above, his height carrying the station he had been forced to wear for the past five cycles. "So answer me – why here? Why spend all your time here? If this is the end of all things, then I can think of better places to meet oblivion than the recesses of an arkship.

Karax remained silent. The same silence that had plagued them all since Aiur. The Nerazim had had over a thousand cycles to embrace the silence. Here…Artanis did not know how much time he had left.

"A darkness spreads across Creation."

Artanis was reminded of something that James Raynor had said – _"no shit."_ He found such a response adequate for the phasesmith's declaration.

"We've seen it," Karax said. He looked at the solar core, and pressed a hand against its casing. "Felt it, at Aiur. Beheld Amon's wrath at Shakuras." He looked at Artanis. "Is it true, Hierarch? That he is a xel'naga? That prophecy states that all that we have ever known and loved is to end in utter darkness?"

"So Zeratul said."

"And do you believe him?"

"I believe that Zeratul believes his words."

Karax's eyes shone. "Evasion. You are adapting well. Or has the Hierarchy trained you that well?"

"I do not give answers in honesty when I do not know them."

"Indeed," Karax said. He withdrew his hand. "Well, here is my answer. I am here, because of the darkness that encroaches on us. Here because of the darkness we suffer, cut off from the Khala's light. I am here, because this may be the last light we ever have. This solar core, this artificial star." The glow in his eyes dimmed. "If our end is inevitable, we are at least free to meet it as we wish. And I can think of no better place than here, in a star's light. Aboard this testament to our lost grandeur."

Artanis did not speak. Karax's despair was obvious, even as he tried to hide the bulk of it. His eyes, his face, his tone. It was the same despair he saw in so many of his people on this ship. Anger as well. But mostly despair.

"If the end comes…" Artanis began, "why not meet it now?"

It was a dangerous question. He might not like the answer. Because he had to know.

"We face a xel'naga. What some may call a god. Zerg are at his command. He commands abominations, and even terrans have thrown in their lot. We are outnumbered, outgunned, and I see no solace in sight." He paused, before asking, "so why fight?"

"Do you ask me, or yourself?"

Artanis didn't answer.

"I shall answer as best I can then," answered Karax. "I fight, because if this is fated to be the last star of the last remnants of the Firstborn, then I believe this is a worthy cause. I fight, because there is nothing to be gained in bowing to the darkness. I fight, because I believe that there is one who can stop him. To kill a god, so his children may be free."

"And that is?"

"You."

Again, Artanis did not speak. But he looked at the core. It hummed the song of suns, and shone the light of the universe. Or so said those inclined to poetic pursuits.

"Keep believing that, my friend," Artanis said. "Even if I do not."

And so he departed. Headed for the bridge so that the _Spear_ 's next destination may be chosen.

For so many stars still shone.


End file.
